I'm a simple flower

Who looked so promising just moments ago,

Used to be a shining example

Used to glow and twirl with color, 

But now has faded into the background;

Short plan and not particularly beautiful--

Not anymore--

I'm just a simple flower after all. 

You've all outgrown me

Far too quick

And I

Have nowhere

Else

To go. 

Once again, I am alone. 

Words slip out

Like oil from a bottle

Spilling all over the floor

Making a mess out of everything.

Yes, little letters

Taint the screen--

Creeping, crawling their way to the right

I wonder if they're just in the way? 

Sonder rings her sonorous bells

Dripping with moisture as we sit

Drifting together on a river of time

Thinking, thinking, then overthinking.

We listen to her chimes, distant but looming

Ever-close in a dusty-shadow way

Whispering to us even when we cover our ears

Painting stories before us even when our eyes are pressed shut,

And we pretend we don't know;

For if we thought too hard,

We'd realise we're the least-human humans in this world 

And so we silently drown on air

As we easily flow with the ebbs and tides,

Pretending everything's fine. 

It is fine, we say,

Smiling vapidly.

you ask me why I like being outside, 

and I tell you that in the morning, 

the weeds growing in my front yard, 

are covered in little dew drops,

and when the sun hits them just right, 

each droplet looks like a little star,

that fell down to earth overnight. 

you ask me why I like being outside, 

and I tell you that if you climb into an oak tree,

and turn to face the sun,

the light makes every leaf start to glow,

so you can see the intricate veins on each one of them. 

you ask me why I like being outside, 

and I tell you that when you stand beside a lavender bush, 

as it's blooming in spring, 

the buzzing of dozens of bees going about their day, 

will fill your ears. 

you ask me why I like being outside, 

and I tell you to step out the door, 

and see for yourself.  

The world is made for those who can:

Who can see, have two functioning eyes

Who can hear, two working ears,

Who have two arms and legs

And tend to use the "right" 

Who can think and speak,

Straight as can be

Who can reason,

Quick as lightning.

Yes, the world is made for who can;

But that is neither you or me.

Drip, drop--

Drip, drop; 

The pluck of invisible strings

Hidden in the dark,

Sheathed in shadow-mist

She sings out to me: 

Through the forest's veil

A voice rings, sweet,

Twined wind and rain and night

To spin a tale of mythic

Song, spilling

Over the hills and valleys

Scuttling by--

Burrowing twixt the leaves and trees.

The cold gales breathe

And dusk flows into me.

The song is mine to take,

As was always meant to be.

~~~~~

More cryptic/fantastical this time. :\

Laughter ripples,

Trickling into little streams--

Cascading down through time;

Offering sustenance to the butterflies

Who jitter by

On painted paper wings;

Singing a hand-bell jingling song,

And echoing in the light teals,

Blush pinks, and butter yellows--

Tasting of morning dew

And waking flowers unfolding

In the pale golden rays of dawn. 

What if my words

Only chip away at your patience?

What is my laugh

Grates you the wrong way, each time?

What if you hate vanilla

And can't stand how I always smell like it?

What if I'm not pretty enough

To even exist beneath you eyes? 

What if we're just not meant to be?

Please don't hate me. 

there is so much fear in

not knowing.

there's something wrong. 

something off.

but you can't correctly articulate

exactly what 

is wrong 

off

different. 

you feel the cool fingers of anxiety 

brushing against your arm

but no one seems to feel it but you.

and they all have smiles on their faces, 

so why don't you? 

just don't worry about it 

they say 

as if it's that easy to 

ignore.

why do they have so little fear 

when you are drowning in it?